Bastille
by GeniusofFun
Summary: She blames the people who named her Beyond Birthday (and the voices in her head). Death does not cure crazy, it makes it worst. fem!BB-SI
1. Chapter 1

**She blames the people who named her Beyond Birthday (and the voices in her head). Death does not cure crazy, it makes it worst. fem!BB-SI**

 **I should probably warn you this is dark and it's also a bit gruesome. I know this is Death Note, but tread carefully and you've been warned (I do not own Death Note or it's characters).**

.

 **Bastille**

| come, as you are, as you were, as i want you to be |

.

.

Japan is, well, not England.

With that astute reflection made, BB proceeds not to roll her eyes at herself. Her hands itch inside the pockets of her coat for some type of jam-lie substance.

(the plane ride is tedious enough that she comes up with forty-nine different ways to kill the man in the seat next to hers, while the voice in her head comes up with new ways to torture the woman in the front).

In one of those street stalls, she finds sticky skewered balls of dough that they call dango, coated with sweet, syrup that is meant to taste like strawberries.

It's not jam, but it satisfies the odd craving she has for a minute, so she orders four more and pays the woman with a wad of bills that isn't hers to begin with (not that the vendor needs to know that).

Now, Japan is, well, Japan.

BB is not here to see the sights (the voice in her head teases that she really is no fun and points out that no one knows her here, so it would be dreadfully easy to follow someone home, lock the door and have a bit of –)

It's not so much that she's in Japan because it's Japan. It's that, in Japan, there is the one she seeks (hide and seek is not her favourite game as a child, she never hides, always seeks and she always finds and where's the fun in that).

It's something to do with Mello, but, nowadays, everything has to do with Mello (blonde, quirky, with a penchant for leather pants and chocolate candy bars and a dislike for white haired albino boys).

Her tongue swirls around another piece of dango and some of the syrup drips down her chin, falls into the scarf wrapped around her neck. She doesn't bother to wipe it.

Mello calls (there are three people in this world that know how to reach her – only three and he just happens to be one of those three), but Mello calls all the time (Wammy is painfully quiet since you left, B, he says with a bored voice that is meant to be devoid of emotions and fails).

She is the middle of an activity (the voice in her head let's out a noise, a mix between a snort and a cackle of fondness at the memory, blood, so much blood, can you not hear the pitter-patter) and B picks up, because, well, there are only three people in the world who know how to reach her and when they call they usually have a good reason.

(One contacts her daily, the second only reaches out to make sure she takes her medication – she doesn't, it makes her brain fuzzy and slows her movements, but she always has a bottle, force of habit, and the third –

It just seems ridiculous to hide from someone who could find you anyways, if he really wanted to, not that he wants to, but he could).

But, Mello calls while she's in the middle of an activity and, for once, makes no threat that he'll have to arrest her one day (it's a sort of joke between them, not that anyone expects the famous detective to keel over and die anytime soon) and talks for an hour.

Mello calls while she's in the middle of one of her activities and makes no offhand comment about the fact that she probably has someone tied up somewhere and talks for an hour.

About Kira.

Contrary to popular belief, BB does not live under a rock and knows how to operate a television. So, this Kira, this serial killer slash mass murderer that needs a name and a face to end his victims with a heart attack.

She isn't remotely surprised that the great detective picked up the case (or that Mello, with his voice that wavers because of the munching of his favorite chocolate bar sounds almost _hopeful_ ).

"It's not that I care about some maniac killing criminals." Mello said, fourteen-years-old and already so tainted by the world (Wammy's isn't exactly a place for children, even it masquerades as an orphanage). "It's just that I don't want you to end up as one of his victims."

BB had blinked, the victim tied to chair forgotten for an instant (he'd be dead in a few seconds anyways, she had pierced a few too many essential arteries).

"That's awfully sweet of you, Mihael." There'd been a sharp intake of breath. "But I don't technically exist, none of us do, you know that."

"I know that." The blonde had grumbled out, just as she wiped the edge of her knife on faded blue jeans and ticked when she noticed that the victim was now very much dead (time, the voice hollered at her, time is a cheating bitch).

"But, maybe, you could check it out." And she'd blinked again, out of surprise most likely, because everyone knew what happened the last time Beyond Birthday had crashed one of the great detective's cases (it's not that incident that removes her permanently from the running, but it does explain a lot).

"I could." She agreed. "But, the real question is, why would I?" And Mihael, sweet and tainted and bitter Mihael, who knows her a bit too well, _had answered_ ;

"This is the one B; the one where L loses. Surely, you wouldn't want to miss that." Just the memory of it makes her brain swerve left – that clever little boy, one day she would cut him up and see if he tasted like chocolate on the inside too.

She preferred the sweetness of strawberries, but she would make an exception, just for him.

But that would be another time (she licks her lips and thinks of a scalpel, only the best for her little pet) and BB is certainly not the type to dwell and be bitter.

Mello had played her. He couldn't have front row seats to the battle of the century so, instead, he'd sent her to keep track of the score (Kira is rumored to be smart, she'll be the judge of that).

She throws away four bamboo skewers in a nearby trashcan, licks the corners of her lips and then her fingers, where some of the strawberry like syrup has coated her digits.

She keeps one of the sharpened sticks in her pocket, just for the heck of it (the voice in her head nags at her, like a child who wants attention, offers insight that one would not possess on their own).

It's awfully tempting to follow the gang of pretty boys she encounters on the streets, next to some cheap looking karaoke bars (eyeballs are soft, one should treat them with care), but only smiles and makes sure to blink her deep scarlet eyes at them.

Fun can wait, she has a detective to find first (for once, the voice agrees, but it always did have a soft spot when it came to him).

* * *

 **a/n: I always write apathetic characters, so, I thought I'd delve inside insanity. Um, so, what did you think? And more importantly, would you like more? Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed and let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**(but normal, what is normal, normal isn't -)**

 **Bastille**

| as a friend, as a friend |

.

.

There's a split second –

Split, split, split (a split second, just like a head, split, split, split in half, pretty girls that bleed in the dark, an axe, cutting through and red, red, red on the sleeve of the uniform, the stolen uniform and –)

(Pretty girls that bleed in the dark, split in two, maybe four, five, six, an axe that is easily found, but not easily concealed and the stolen maid uniform that is a tad too tight, stained with blood).

And the world stops.

(Watari falls and BB hits him, hard, behind the head and B hits to hit, not to kill, because she can't help the hint of fondness she has for the old man and the orphanage of freaks he keeps; quiet, hush, shhh).

Her and L (no, it's never that easy).

BB blinks upwards, innocent and childish, red splattered on her cheek matching the colour of eyes and stares, stares, _stares_ and that man – her an L, it's never that easy – stares right back, black eyes quick and calculative and taking her in.

 _What is it with you and L and the staring,_ Mello had asked, eleven-years-old and observant in all the terrible, terrible ways.

'It has been three years', the voice offers as answer, bored and already detached from the whole thing (Beyond Birthday and L Lawliet will always have a past, a present and a future).

"You are in Japan." He states, no, not a question. He probably already knows why and, even if he doesn't know, he won't bother to ask (she is here, why is not important, no, but what she plans to do that –).

"Mello said you might die." She offers as an answer to a question that was never asked, still childish and innocent (because Wammy teaches lots, but it does not teach you how to grow up).

He sends her a flat look and she smiles (and there is nothing nice about that smile, no, it's dark and gruesome and her teeth have always been particularly sharp).

"BB." Her name is his mouth (it's been three years and BB has never been quite free, no, she'll never be, she can run and hide, she can, but that won't do any good).

"Yes?" She bats her eyelashes.

"Make sure he's not dead." He sends a look towards Wammy, still sprawled on the floor, still unmoving and he's breathing, but somebody should probably try to wake him up, look for a commotion, give some pills and a tall glass of water.

"Okay." She nods her head and he turns around, showing his back to her (and BB would like to say how foolish that is because everyone who's ever did has ended up dead, dead, _dead_ , but him, no, it's different).

'This…' the voice whispers in her ears as BB grabs one of the old man's legs and pulls him all the way to one of the plush, expensive couches in the fancy hotel room. 'This will be interesting.'

BB would like to answer, but the voice is entity of itself, with only words screamed or whispered in her ears and the truth is the voice never takes what BB would like to say (words are already jumbled inside Beyond's head and the voice, sort of, it makes better).

No, the truth is, the truth is, BB cannot tell the future (but the voice, the voice that whispers sweet nothings into her head and feeds that red, hot, burning inside of her to kill, kill, kill, well…), but –

But the voice can.

'You're supposed to be dead, caught and killed, Kira was supposed to kill you.' It mutters exactly as Watari opens his eyes, confused and dazed and old, he's not young anymore, but you already knew that and stares at her.

She had the decency of sitting him on the couch (sometimes, sometimes she thinks about killing him, about hanging his body from the rafters at Wammy's and his feet dangling from the abyss and then she stops herself, finds some type of fondness for him, a usefulness while he's alive, even if stupid people die at Wammy's).

"Beyond…" His voice is hoarse and yet (stern, paternal, a little disappointed, but overall glad that she's alright because it's been three years and maybe, just maybe, he was worried about her). "You're here."

He notices the stain on the uniform when she hands him that glass of water – he doesn't drink it (not that he should, not without sniffing it first and Beyond is not cowardly enough to use poison, but maybe she would, you never know; she is known for impulsiveness).

"Mello said L might die." Here it is once more (stern, paternal, disappointed) and BB knows that when this conversation is over, the phone in Roger's office will ring (not that she finds anything wrong with what she just said, really, it's what she came for, what she wants to see).

But since it's Mello and everyone sorts of expects it, that stern look doesn't stay for long (Watari is old now, older than before, older than when he first came to fetch her at her parents' funeral, older than when L first started the job, he's older, wiser, _boring_ ).

Finally, the old man stands up from the couch, takes her in (three years and she knows he's analyzing, the fact that her fashion sense is still nonexistent, that she's lost weight since no one is forcing a meal down her throat three times a day, her head that is in desperate need of a haircut, her nails that dirty and worn, her hand calloused).

And then, there's the blood on her cheek and on the uniform she stole (it reminded her, it reminded her of jam and she tried, tried to lick it, but pretty girls that bleed in the dark don't taste that good, no, not sweet at all).

"Have a shower. Leave the clothes on the ground, I'll get you knew ones." BB nods her head and his smile, well, it's paternal and a tad warm and it's no wonder that they've all turned like this.

And it's almost, almost normal, but –

(but normal, what is normal, normal is not burning someone's blood covered clothes without asking questions, normal is not offering a killer a place to stay and a warm bath and food, normal is not finding teenage boys hanged from their necks and never once thinking that it's your fault).

BB doesn't know normal (she crouches in the shower and draws patterns on white porcelain, the water a murky, reddish brown).

'Pretty boys…' the voice says. 'Pretty boys with killer notebooks and Shinigami pets, oh, oh…'

* * *

 **a/n: Slowly, very, very slowly, we're getting there. hahaha, this was very draining to write and probably not the update anyone was expecting, but the thought of BB and her crazy SI! voice head is just, well, it's fun to write, if a bit tiring. I was very pleased that my idea seemed to interest people, so, thank you all for the lovely reviews and the favourites and just for reading it in the first place. If it's a bit fuzzy as you read it, it's meant to. Honestly, it's also fuzzy to write. Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed, thanks for reading and drop a review to let me know what you thought. See you next chappie.**


	3. Chapter 3

**And BB has the sound of laughter ringing in her ears for hours.**

 **Bastille**

| as an old enemy |

.

.

The jam is thick, overly sweet and has that processed smell, the type that lets you know the jar is full of bad, unhealthy things for you.

Beyond dips her spoon in the gelatin, red, so, so red and, in a swift movement, shoves it in her mouth, her eyes rolling backwards in her sockets as she throws her head backwards at the taste.

Someone clears their throat, obviously uneasy and BB completely ignores it, thinks that being here, in Japan, certainly has it perks (an endless amount of jam, warm clothes and expensive hotel rooms and someone else to dispose of the bodies – not that BB can't do it on her own, but still, it's nice).

"L…" A stern voice commands. "Is this necessary?"

The detective looks up from his laptop, thin fingers around an animal shaped cookie and blinks upwards, as if he's just woken up and finally realizes that they are other people in the room with him.

"Ah…" He looks like he finally noticed what causes everyone else in the room discomfort. "Yagami-san, you are referring to B."

Soichiro Yagami has a hand on his tie, a nervous habit he probably doesn't even know he possesses. He's a very stern man, paternal, at least, that's what the voice says. And he may be married, have a family, but his love will always be his work.

(and his darling boy, the one who kills with only a name and a face, heart attacks for the criminals he hates and the people who try to stop him).

"I assure, Yagami-san, B is no threat." And then the detective shakes his head. "At least, not to you." He corrects and doesn't even bother sending her a look.

BB watches the exchange with mild interest, the spoon stuck in her mouth as blood red eyes dart around the room, taking in L's newest Task Force (he didn't use to be so frivolous, no, he used to be simpler, BB remembers, thinks the detective is getting older even with his childish appearance).

"That's not what I meant…" The chief of the NPA says, clearing his throat.

No, that's obviously not what he meant, but L has never been particularly gifted in reading normal people's emotions – or, no, rather, he's never cared (normal for him, no, normal for them means boring and BB is a lot of things, but boring has never been one of them).

"He thinks we're sleeping together." BB says, tapping the spoon on her nose.

"That's ridiculous." L says, finally looking at her. Black eyes, round and not so innocent at all stare right back at her and BB knows, knows the amusement in his voice.

"Isn't it?" BB let's out a laugh (but, her laugh, it's dark and twisted and vicious and very, very ominous and yet BB finds most of all things in life amusing, that's probably why she's so crazy).

"So… you're not sleeping together?" Matsuda Touta this time. That Aizawa fellow smacks him upside down the head with a file and yet, he obviously wants to know. All of them, probably.

BB stares at the man, Touta Matsuda and wonders –

"I'm sure you taste like sunshine." Matsuda blinks at her.

"Thank you?" He's unsure and most people would be.

"Mind if I –" And she's leaned in, a tad too much and is ready to pounce, not at all caring that this is a room filled with policemen or that day light streams through the opened curtains.

"B…" L's voice would seem blasé to anyone else, but Beyond can recognize the warning in his tone, the way he's ready to make sure she doesn't kill the people that make up his Task Force.

'Let's not get ahead of ourselves, yes?' The voice says sweetly, too sweet. It doesn't suit it at all.

BB leans back, her spoon back into the jar of jam and blinks.

"Matsuda-san, please don't encourage B." But the famed detective says it with no real care and B knows that he wouldn't mourn the loss, no, they mean _nothing_ , just a means to an end.

"Oh…" Her mouth parts. "Oh, please do." And BB doesn't plead or beg, but she so desperately wants a distraction and she's sure the sunshine taste in her mouth would last for days.

Matsuda shakes, as if suddenly hyper aware of her and BB sends him a smile. Yagami-san clears his throat again, hand still on his tie and Aizawa has his eyes on her, obviously not trusting her and –

Wammy enters the room, cake boxes neatly balanced and BB would roll her eyes, except, except she can see he carries something else, something red and found in jars (being here, in Japan, certainly has its perks (an endless amount of jam, warm clothes and expensive hotel rooms and someone else to dispose of the bodies – not that BB can't do it on her own, but still, it's nice).

The conversation eventually changes, people speak about Kira, try to understand and yet fail miserably and even L, L must be fascinated, must want to catch him more with each second that passes.

It's only when the Task Force has left the hotel room, another day of mindless nothing, that L looks at her, really looks at her and says;

"Actually, it's a good thing that you're here."

And BB knows, knows better than to take this compliment. Spoon covered in jam stuck in her mouth, she raises an eyebrow.

"Yes, I was thinking of doing it myself, but since you're here…" And he trails off, eyes clouded and lips parted and BB wonders what the detective would taste like (sweet, he would taste very sweet, like cake and BB, BB has never been a fan of cake, except the ones filled with jam).

'Maybe all that cake finally got to him.' The voice says and, if it had a face to match, it would probably stare at the detective with distain and a hint of disgust.

"Beyond." The detective uses her name and she has to blink at that. "I need you take to Entrance Exams, University Entrance Exams."

She blinks once more.

And the voice –

(BB has the sound of laughter ringing in her ears for hours).

* * *

 **a/n: Okay, so, I won't lie, this was extremely fun to write. So, I'll answer a few questions. First off, no, in this story, the LABB case never happened and B is, technically, L's successor. As for her side in the Kira/L debacle, well, that would be giving it away. For those wondering about the SI... that would also be telling, but there are hints and, if any of you don't understand it yet, well, you'll learn eventually. Thank you all for your lovely reviews, I'm happy you like the madness that is Beyond. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, drop a review to let me know. As always, thanks for reading and I'll see you next time.**


	4. Chapter 4

_He, he would taste like gold._

 **Bastille**

| take your time |

.

.

"So?" Mello's voice comes out nasally from the phone's speaker, not that the real version is much better.

"I…" BB trails off, peering at her reflection coming from the refrigerator door. "I had to take entrance exams." She finishes, blinking at the image of her.

For a minute, the other side of the line is deadly quiet and BB studies herself carefully, touches her rosy cheeks and then her smooth hair, runs a finger over her eyelashes that are coated with heavy black. Even her eyes, the colour, the usual red, is gone. Instead, there is a reddish brown, still uncommon but much more, well, _normal_.

"Entrance exams?" Mello repeats slowly after the minute of silence (and if BB was anyone else, she would miss it, the surprise, the envy, the jealousy – she is L's favorite after all, at least, that's what they say).

"Yes." She says absentmindedly, her hand on the handle of the fridge as she opens it and lets her eyes travel up and down the stocked shelves.

"L made you take entrance exams, for university…" He trails off and Beyond doesn't listen, not really, anyways, as she finds the jam and feels her grin spread to her ears. "He included you in his case."

B doesn't roll her eyes at the childishness. No, instead she opens the lid of the jar and, without bothering to grab a utensil, dips of her fingers inside, the jelly cold and sticky and perfect.

She clearly misses what Mello says as she sticks the digit inside her mouth and throws her head back at the taste, sweet and sugary and over processed and coating her skin just like _blood_.

"B!" And she blinks back in reality at the sound. "Leave your goddamn jam alone for a second and focus. Did you meet Kira?" Beyond dips another finger, this time the middle one, in the jam and thinks –

Did she meet Kira?

'Yes.' The voice had whispered during her exam, as she sat in a row full of normal, boring people who were all messes of confusion and impatience and nerves. 'Yes, that's him.'

And, as the neon lights hit her eyes and the contacts she wore made the world a tad blurrier, Beyond Birthday bent her head and stared, her focus entirely on this boy – this boy who tried to make reality and justice bend to his _will_ and had thought –

"Yeah." She says, sitting on one of the plush couches draped in black velvet. "Yeah, I did." There's a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the line.

"What's he like?" BB rolls her eyes at Mello's words because she would hardly know. When the timer went off and the exam was over, she had been escorted out by Wammy the second she'd been done, almost like the old man knew what was going on inside her head.

"He's…" And this boy, this boy who tries to make reality and this world _his_. "He's very pretty to look at."

In that moment, Beyond had thought that if one day she could split him open, if she could slice him up and watch him bleed, if she could coat her skin with his blood and have it flow freely in her mouth, the taste, the taste would be, well, _beyond_ anything she had ever tasted before.

Her admission is met with a loud fall and stunned silence and B knows that Mello's dropped the phone, that he's staring at it in horror because she knows Mello, yes, she knows him; dear, sweet, twisted and disturbed Mello.

Beyond is not one to offer compliments, no, never, but as she gazed at Light Yagami, she could see it, the layers, intricate and weaved so tight anyone else would miss it.

Everyone else, but her and L (because L would, would see it, would see clearly through this boy like he had years ago when he'd first laid eyes on her).

When the phone is picked up once more, it isn't Mello's voice anymore.

"Hey B." Matt greets, voice filled with boredom and just a hint of frustration, most likely because Mello interrupted his videogame time. "Can't talk right now. I'll tell Mello to call you back later, k?"

And with that, the line dies out. BB sits back into the couch and dips her fingers in the jelly, watches drops of it fall onto the cushions and create greasy stains – it's not like the fridge isn't filled with more jars, more and more, so many it makes her brain fuzzy.

"Beyond." L's voice snaps her out of it. He's there, on the couch in front of her and he's crouched, even as he reaches forward to cut himself a piece of cake. As if he's been here since, _well_ … "What did you really think of him?"

She tilts her head to the side and thinks, thinks, thinks –

There was once a time when Beyond Birthday thought about taking the Great Detective L on, had thought about creating a case so intricate, so mysterious and complicated that he would never be able to solve it, because what would piss off L would not be death, no, it would be his inability to solve a case.

But BB, BB is not stupid enough to think herself smarter than L. She's smart, smarter than any of his current successors, smarter than most people on this earth could ever hope to be, has the ability to understand and learn and regurgitate everything they teach her, but she is not smarter than L.

But Light, Light, _Light_ –

"He looks like…" Brown hair, chocolate eyes wide like a doe and so, so rotten, so truly disconnected, every flaw and every asset she could find could be bestowed upon him. "He looks like he would taste like gold."

"I see." And the detective looks at her, but she's staring up at the ceiling, doesn't care that more jam drops and stains the fabric, doesn't care about the fact that she's dressed up and so unlike herself (not that BB truly has one, a self, even that is distorted).

'Oh…' The voice whispers. 'Oh, that's truly horrible.' And there's a laugh, like a deep rumble, that makes B's body shake.

* * *

 **a/n: take this as a break before we really get into it, a sort of 'entracte'. Next chapter, Toho and Light. Cheers to everyone who takes the time to review. Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed and let me know what you thought.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Entrance ceremonies are a farce, even worst then madhouses disguised as orphanages.**

 **Bastille**

| hurry up |

.

.

Speeches are terrible tedious things, meant to be forgotten as soon as they are over.

Entrance ceremonies are a farce, even worst then madhouses disguised as orphanages. Wammy's is a farce, the biggest one B has ever encountered, but entrance ceremonies come in close seconds.

As her eyes scan the swarm of student before her, she thinks that even if was to kill every single person in this room, bleed them dry and hang their bodies from the ceiling, the taste would be blend and leave her unsatisfied.

(Wammy's may be a madhouse, but it's inhabitants all have distinct tastes, chocolate and tobacco, puzzling and fiery, sunflowers and blue, blue, just like the ocean).

"As all of us embark on this new chapter of our lives…"

No, maybe not all of them. From the corner of her eyes, BB can clearly see him, golden and pure fire, with so much blood coating his hands that he shines red.

His mask is dutifully crafted. He strings words clearly and calmly, without missing a beat (he is everything she is not, has weaved himself from chains of social constructs and proper etiquette, untouchable and yet attainable, a contradiction bent over itself so many times it almost seems real).

When he speaks, people pause and glance up in wonder, ready to drink in his lies and everything else he may offer them and BB, BB knows a psychopath when she sees one (because she is one herself).

"Our student representatives." A voice drones out when BB finishes to read her part of the painfully boring speech. "Light Yagami and Beatrice Beaulieu."

People clap loudly and whisper ever louder – about her, about him, about the fact that they obtained perfect scores and how beautiful people certainly have it easy in life.

As they walk down the stairs, he presents his hand to her with a smile (all of this is just a charade). For a second, BB thinks of slashing it, of licking the wound clean, of getting a taste, just a small one. But the thought is pushed to the side and she allows him to escort her back into the swarm, takes the seat next to him because that's what she is meant to do.

She is meant to follow him.

(He offers and people take, but he only offers very little and BB, BB takes a lot).

"Why did you choose a University so far away from home?" He asks as the myriad of speeches continues on in the background, voices blending with others to the point where you can't even recognize who spoke.

Beyond raises an eyebrow at the question and he smiles.

"Your name is not Japanese." He whispers and BB is almost tempted to tell him that her name is just L being L, that he chose an alias that is feminine and French, both things that BB isn't.

' _How is your French?_ ' The voice teases, even if it knows perfectly well that Beyond's French is flawless.

"I came to Japan because I needed to find someone." BB offers and it's the truth, it really is.

"Oh?" He's curious, but, mostly, he's suspicious. A new face appears out of nowhere when he's so clearly being investigated, someone who scored a perfect score just like him on the entrance exams and he's suspicious because he's smart enough to know that coincidences do not exists.

BB nods her head, but doesn't answer, not really. She keeps her body towards the front and yet her eyes study him slowly, taking him in through the brown tint of her contacts.

"Would it be considered impolite if I asked who you needed to find?" He's polite, overly so. It's such a change from the people in her life, brazen and quick to speak their minds.

BB is amused and she decides to humour him.

She leans in closer to him.

"I came to find Kira." She whispers slowly and sweetly, eyes strained on him as she watches his reaction. Anyone else would miss the quick flash of surprise that barely lasts a second, but she doesn't.

"Kira?" He recovers quickly. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"I don't think he would harm me." She says with a smile. "I have something for him, something he needs."

"Really?" She's piqued his interest, it's almost too easy.

"Yes." She nods her head.

There is a moment of silence and then another. He looks at her, really looks at her and he can't figure it out and Beyond knows, knows that it bothers him. He's trying to guess and he can't.

"What is it?" He finally asks. "What is it that you have that Kira needs?"

"It's a secret." She says, watching as his eyes darken.

"I can keep a secret." He answers without missing a beat.

BB tilts her head to the side and opens her mouth.

"I have L's name."

His lips part, but before he can answer, the crowd starts clapping, the dreadful speeches finally over. BB smiles and turns her head, starts clapping like everyone else.

There is a second where he pauses, but then he snaps put of it and starts clapping, the movement absent and with no real emotion behind it. No, he's too busy.

He's busy planning, considering his next move. He's contemplating her and what she's just said, he wants to know but obviously can't come out and say he is Kira because she could be working for L or worst, she would be L because no one knows if L is male or female except for those who have worked with him.

He wants to be sure (and BB thinks it's a beautiful thing that is happening in front of her, a beautiful, golden and fiery thing and B considers killing him right now just so she can have the taste on her tongue and drink it in, coat her skin in his blood and bathe in it).

As people make their way out, he stops her.

"It was nice meeting you." He doesn't take the bait and BB is almost disappointed, but didn't expect anything else from him (she wouldn't take it, then again, she wouldn't kill people with heart attacks and magical notebooks that fall from the sky).

"Likewise."

When BB makes her way back to Wammy who waits in the car to make sure she doesn't follow some poor fellow home (can't have students dropping dead like flies all of sudden), Beyond pauses for a few seconds and cracks her knuckles.

And then, she throws her head back and laughs.

* * *

 **a/n: An update? Really? Why yes, yes it is. So, the madness begins or continues, depending on which way you look at it. How did you like BB's first interaction with Light? Did she make enough of an impression? Anyways, thank you to everyone who follows this story and takes the time to review, I'm glad you enjoy and I thank you for your support. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you thought. It's about to get weird. Well, weirder. Thank you for reading and see you next time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Her heels are high and sharp like needles, the soles red like they were coated with blood.**

 **Bastille**

| the choice is yours |

.

.

"Mello called while you were out." L greets as she walks into the room. His voice is monotone, like it always is when it comes to his successors and BB's shoes clack on the expensive marble.

"Anything interesting?" Her heels are high and sharp like needles, the soles red like they were coated with blood. She kicks them off and leaves it on the middle of the floor, body already twisted towards the refrigerator.

He pauses for a second, eyes never straining from his beloved computer and Beyond doesn't bother looking at him as she moves towards the kitchen, hands on the handle of fridge.

"Not really, no, but Mello hardly says anything interesting." It's the way he says it, cold and detached. "He said to call him back." L doesn't have to tell her that he tuned out after this and probably handed the phone back to Wammy without even bothering to hang up properly.

"Really L…" BB's fingers are coated with jam and she looks at them, her fingers, sticky and red, before sticking her index in her mouth. "You should be nicer to your successors."

And she teases, voice low and sweet, because BB couldn't care less about how L treats people (maybe she cared, a long time ago, but that was before Mello and Matt and Near and even before L was really famous, maybe).

Black eyes peer at her as she moves towards the other end of the couch and plops down, curling her legs under her thighs causing her dress to ride up.

"Mello is not my successor." He turns to fully look at her. "You are."

"No, I'm not." She snorts, the sweet smell of over processed food going up all the way to her nose. "We've already had this discussion."

"Yes, I remember." He tilts his head childishly. "I also remember not agreeing to it."

"Um…" Someone clears their throat uncomfortable and both BB's and L's eyes turn simultaneously to look at Touta Matsuda who stands in front of them with wide eyes.

It's not that B didn't notice the other in the room; Yagami-san on a table near the window with files opened in front of him, Matsuda walking around aimlessly, Aizawa seated on the couch opposite and a new one, one BB hasn't seen before, seated next to him.

"Yes, Matsuda-san?" L's voice is suddenly bored and lacking any emotions. BB's eyes turn into slits as she regards the man who would taste like sunshine and licks her lips clean of the jam.

"Um, Ryuzaki…" He's shy because of the attention. "Who is this?"

L turns to look at her and B matches his look. It makes the older one even more uncomfortable as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

"Ah, Matsuda-san, you didn't recognize B." The way L speaks, you'd think he'd just insulted the man and his mother and his entire family all at once.

"It's Beatrice, actually." BB says, amused, partly to confuse Matsuda even more and the other to criticize L's chosen alias. L doesn't smile, but she can see the corner of his lips twitching.

"Oh…" Matsuda trails off and he looks, very hard at her before exclaiming ever louder; "Oh!"

L's face mirrors her own as they both send him flat looks (he would taste like sunshine and stupid optimism and wants to pounce, wants to push her thumbs deep into his eyes and hear the way he screams as he collapses and tries to fight her).

"Well, now that you remember…" L bites his thumb. "Please get back to work, Matsuda-san."

The man deflates and, from the corner of her eyes, she can see Aizawa slapping his forehead and shaking his head while the one next to him, short hair and raised eyebrow, sends a weird, puzzled look at them all.

Yagami-san merely keeps to himself and BB is almost tempted to play with him, tell him that his son has so much blood on his hands that he shines red and burns like destructive fire.

Wammy walks in, only minutes after her, and, as he regards them both seated on the couch next to each other, smiles.

"How was it?" L asks, probably having enough of Matsuda's pathetic antics. B pauses, dipping her fingers in the jam once again and then licking them clean.

"Entrance ceremonies are boring." She doesn't lie and why would she. Her and L, they've always been too honest with each other.

"Yes, well, I'm hardly interested in that." Wammy moves as L speaks and pushes a plate with a perfect cut of cake on the large coffee table.

BB tilts her head to the side.

"It went fine." She didn't kill anyone and that's just a pity because the people there were so boring that it certainly would have made the whole ordeal a little more fun. "Exactly like you're thinking."

"Entrance ceremony?" Matsuda asks and L sends him another flat look.

"Yes, Matsuda-san." L says with a bored tone. "B was accepted at To-Oh and the entrance ceremony was today."

Touta Matsuda's mouth opens and then close and, from the table near the window, Yagami-san turns tired, but surprised eyes towards the detective.

"Are you investigating my son again, Ryuzaki?" But there's no real bite to his voice and BB has to wonder, because the man may not be as smart as his son, but he certainly isn't stupid.

"No, I'm not, Yagami-san." L says effortlessly. "But, if you must know, B has entered To-Oh at my request."

And that, in itself, is a contradiction because BB would never have taken entrance exams if L did not want Light Yagami investigated in the first place and, obviously, Soichiro Yagami doesn't buy L's lies.

"I thought my son was cleared when you put camera's in my house, Ryuzaki." BB can hear it in his voice, the outrage and the pain, but he has to know, has to know that only his son could pull off something like this.

"Yes, well…" L trails off and BB cannot help the way her brain turns off as they all start arguing with each other, their voices blending in the background.

BB stares at the red, sticky jam dripping and stuffs her middle finger in her mouth.

' _Men…'_ If the voice had a face, it would roll it's eyes.

* * *

 **a/n: Sometimes, this story just sneaks up on me. I hope you liked L and B's interactions, I quite enjoyed them. I'm glad everyone seems to like the way I write B, I try to stay as true to the characters as a possibly can and I'm glad that people appreciate it. All your feedback is precious to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, drop a review and thank you for reading. see you next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 7

**And then his cellphone rings in his pocket and time, who had seemed suspended, starts again.**

 **Bastille**

| don't be late |

.

.

"I don't mean to sound too curious…" He starts out, eyes wide and with a healthy blush on his cheeks.

He's the embodiment of innocence like this, dressed in white and hair still wet from his shower. He has his sport's bag thrown with meticulous carelessness over one shoulder and is close to her, but not too close.

Next to him, Beyond is the devil. She is everything dark, from her hair to her choice of clothes, the heavy black that coats her eyelashes and her lips tainted red from the intoxicating jam she guzzled down while watching him play tennis (but BB is born from the darkness, shaped and molded from it and he, he is more fallen angel, better to reign in hell than to serve in heaven and all that).

If people stop and stare at them, they are both very good at ignoring it (people whisper trying to be subtle and failing and when he waves at her from the court with that winning smile on his face, so bright it makes the sun seem dim, gossip spreads like wildfire about the two highest scoring students of that year and the mysterious relationship they have even if they both look so unmatched).

Beyond hums as they continue their walk through the campus, not quite focused on his words.

"How do you know L's name?" His pupils are properly dilated, the questions meant to sound innocent even if it's anything but. "Very few people know what he looks like, even less know his name…"

B almost snorts.

If L is obsessed by this boy, then his obsession is equally matched (BB knows that if Light Yagami had ever walked the halls of Wammy's, he would have been L's successor, not Mello or Near or Matt and certainly not _her_ ).

"I lived with him." Surprise blossoms on his pretty, pretty face and B knows that if she could taste him, the surprise would spoil the taste. "I guess you could say we grew up together."

There is a moment of silence between them, B with a content smile on her face and him with his quiet calculations, obviously not expecting her answer (he wants to know if she lies, but BB is always brutally honest).

"You lived with him." He repeats, his voice slow and steady.

"I still live with him, technically." She adds to play with his mind even further. "It seemed better than to rent an apartment, since he was already in Japan."

She wonders if this boy has ever been rendered speechless in his entire life and the voice congratulates, pleased and purring like a cat who's master scratched her ears.

She almost tells him that every answer he asks will only bring forth more questions. Her relationship with L is something otherworldly and even those who have known them for years can't quite figure it out (Mello rolls his eyes and bites his comments like chocolate, Matt understands more than he should but lacks interest and Near is wrapped up in indifference and yet clings to them as if he sees something no one else can).

The only one on this earth who could even begin to fathom the dept of their relationship, well, he isn't around anymore, hasn't been for years (he was soft spoken and filled with sunshine and while he didn't understand most things, he understood them, understood her better than she probably understands herself).

"I didn't expect that." He tells her, as if he's just realized that honesty is probably his safest bet in uncovering her deep, dark secrets. She almost pats his head in approval, like one would a child.

She offers him a coy smile, one that clearly says he'll never fully understand unless he asks the right questions.

"But if you know him so well," He continues. "Why would you give his name to Kira? Obviously, you know what he would do with L's name…"

"L's name is more leverage than anything else." Because Beyond never planned to offer L's name to Kira in the first place. "What I want to offers is insight."

"Insight?" He repeats her words more stunned each time.

She nods her head, pleased to have him so entirely focused on her.

"If Kira is human, which I suspect he is more than he lets on, than he wants to triumph over L more than he wants to kill him and killing L won't defeat him, no entirely anyways." Her words drip with poison, cold and wicked.

"I think I lot of people would argue that death is the ultimate defeat." A lot of people would, yes, but none that have wanted to take on the famed detective L.

"L doesn't care about death." He truly doesn't, BB knows because she doesn't either and they are both too smart to fear it. "The only way someone would truly defeat L is if they could create a case so intricate, so improbable, that he could never solve it."

"And you think Kira could do that?" BB nods her head at the questions.

"I do. I think Kira is the only one smart enough to do it, to finally triumph over L and banish him, to shake his entire world and take what he holds dearest in his heart."

Beyond Birthday smiles and the corners of her lips twitch in pure malice. She can hear the break in his thoughts and the new ones that weave themselves from her words. When he opens his mouth, he burns red.

"You hate him." It's simple, the way he says it, with no real emotion. It's cold realization that dawns on him and anyone else would be chilled to the bone, but he just burns brighter.

They've both stopped walking and remain firmly rooted in place.

He stares at her, takes her in, a new transparency to him and he doesn't need to come out and say it, but BB is observant enough to know what he's doing. He's letting her in, allowing her to gaze at the monster he has created.

He's never looked more beautiful.

And then his cellphone rings in his pocket and time, who had seemed suspended, starts again.

' _How romantic…_ ' The voice says, pleased and deadly in her ears.

* * *

 **a/n: I mean, what the hell am I writing? I don't even have words right now. I should still be studying for finals and here I am. I'd love to hear your thoughts since I can't even find mine anymore. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed and thank you to every one who reviews and takes the time to read this. I hope you enjoyed and I'll see you next time.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Beyond Birthday is pragmatic in a way that would make most people shudder.**

 **Bastille**

| bite my tongue, bide my time |

.

.

Beyond Birthday is pragmatic; in a way that would make most people shudder (driven by logic, some shrink tells her once, but what about your feelings, he asks her after).

'There's nothing wrong with self-preservation' the voice tells her.

Beyond is pragmatic, in a way that would make most people shudder (if she hasn't been caught yet, she'll never be caught, bodies, but no discernable pattern, driven by logic, not emotions, there's nothing to find there).

"It's late." L offers, obvious, when she finally crawls back to the hotel room. "Or early." The sun rises slowly, shy rays peeking over the horizon.

BB doesn't answer, but moves towards him.

He probably already knows all about Light Yagami dragging her to his father's hospital room, about awkward introductions to his mother and sister. Beyond can play the game of the fellow classmate well, she doesn't go in to greet the patriarch of the Yagami family, thinks seeing her so close to his son would finish off (she thinks about it, of course, but there's no fun in killing someone who's already in death's doorway).

She pushes a hand through her hair, a curl that clouds her vision. She stains her cheek red with the motion, hands still sticky and coated with crimson.

L peers at her from the top of his laptop.

"I suppose I shouldn't ask where you were." L and her play that game so well. He states the obvious without actually offering any insight, Beyond pretends her clothes are not drenched with blood.

"No, you shouldn't." Wammy is an enabler, he'll take care of the marks she leaves on the couch with a wave of his hand, an exasperated sigh and too much peroxide. It will stink for weeks. "Plausible deniability."

His lips push into a pout, childish and mildly annoyed. He also doesn't like the smell of peroxide, but knows it will still be there anyways. He'll petition for another room, most likely in another hotel.

"Is he still alive?" L has the right idea, but not the right victim. Light Yagami is perfectly fine, as fine as someone like him can be anyways. She left him in the hallway of the hospital with a somber look and no words of comfort.

"I didn't kill your plaything, L." No, the blood she wears does not belong to Kira. He would taste like metal, shiny and bright, soft and malleable, gold in its purest form, freshly harvested – this is different.

It's sweet in a way only sorrow and pain can be. Beyond had worked dutifully, cut and drained, pushed past skin and bone, a fitting punishment for someone who would have killed her had they been given the chance.

(another body in the room, this one free of mutilations, forty seconds before time stopped, pockets filled with newly acquired money and a pile of ash, sacrificed for foolish love, a notebook fallen atop of it).

"You wouldn't." L pauses, soft as if to not ruffle her. He may not fear her, even as she sits in front of him wearing the crimson of her victims – but he's smart enough to tread carefully, especially when the high of the kill is still etched across her face. "You have a use for him."

Beyond nods quickly; for now, she thinks, for now she finds him useful.

"Do you want him to kill me, Beyond?" She tilts her head to the side and meets his gaze. Her head swims in hues of red and gold, her tongue burning with cooper and borrowed pain.

She throws her head back, laughter bubbling in her chest. It makes her body shake, her eyes widen and then water with amused tears that she doesn't shed.

"Oh, L." She says, through bouts of laughter. "If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you myself."

From anyone else, the threat would seem meaningless. L is certainly not as weak as he looks and physically, he would probably be able to fight her, but he doesn't have it in him to kill her. Anyone else, perhaps, but not her.

Beyond would stab through him, white hot simmering pain. She would make it slow, painful, she would taste his blood and probably eat part of his flesh, sweet like cake and sizzling like the coffee he drinks. She would devour and consume and maybe, just maybe, she would finally see just how much of him is actually in her.

He knows it, can see it. She is a creation, maybe not entirely his, but they share vital organs. He doesn't look at her in fear, not even in disgust. Dark eyes take her in and 'see' it tells him, 'see what you have created'.

Beyond Birthday is pragmatic in a way that would make most people shudder. She is a being of pure logic, practical, no emotions whatsoever. She wants and takes and disregards most unspoken laws. She is shaped from a past and the future that sings in her head. She is molded after an ideal that is already broken.

She is his successor, the one and only.

It could never be Mello or Matt or Near. It could never have been A. If Light Yagami had walked the halls of Wammy, it would have been him. But he is too pure, uncharred, unjaded, filled with hope and ideas of grandeur, to create a world that is ultimately good.

But L doesn't want that, not truly. In a world filled with purity and light, he'd be entirely useless. His life is built on hunting criminals, on understanding what makes them tick, their motives, their patterns, their designs.

Without it, he'd been nothing, merely a footnote in the long, tedious history that is humanity.

"Of course." He tells her with a nod, dark eyelashes fluttering in a way that is almost sweet. She smiles at him, deadly, lethal, still high from the kill and with a fondness that is familiar, that she keeps just for him.

He smiles right back at her.

'There's nothing wrong with self-preservation' the voice singsongs the next day when Wammy opens the day's newspaper, photos of model Misa Amane, found dead in her apartment by her landlord, the smell of peroxide unpleasant in her nose.

* * *

 **a/n : Welcome to the start of the second act. But, really, what the hell am I writing, I don't even know myself. L and Beyond are, well, beyond anything healthy at this point and I find that they fit each other so well, but they are draining to write, you know? Yet, I am happy to write another chapter, it's been too long since I've revisited this story. Thank you everyone for your feedback, I love your input and I'm glad most of you seem to enjoy it enough to keep reading. So, let me know what you thought of this chapter, I hope you liked it. Drop a review and thank you for reading. I'll see you next time.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Next you'll be leaving each other dead bodies as love letters.**

 **Bastille**

| when I first saw you, the end was soon |

.

.

The croissant is soft, buttery and already a little cool to the touch. Beyond hardly cares for it, stabs a finger through folds of dough only for her finger to come back out greasy.

They offered a side of jam, homemade, not quite as chemical as the stuff you buy in bulk at grocery store. Pieces of fruit, strawberry and other berries, a dark deep red that stains the little white plastic knife the boy at the register gave her.

The taste (hardly compares to the high of the kill, cooper and iron, metallic on her tongue that makes her eyes roll backwards in their socket) is a bit tart, less sweet. It's enjoyable more than the pastry.

The coffee shop is mostly empty at this hour. Workers move slow, not enough coffee yet, the morning rush well over and still plenty of time before lunchtime. There are four or five people scattered through the store, two girls with laptops and books on her left, a boy that looks ready to fall asleep between sips of coffee to her right.

Her cellphone cuts through the silence, vibrates loudly in the pocket of her pants and yet no one in the shop seems to notice, even as she fishes it out and rolls her eyes at the number.

"What do you want?" She answers with, licking strawberry red of the knife with a swirl of her tongue.

"You're a real piece of shit, you know that right?" Beyond nods to no one in particular because yes, she's very aware of that. "I've been trying to reach you for a fucking month and all I get is Wammy forcing me to talk to L."

BB snorts, amused, very much so.

"That bad?" She doesn't really need to ask. She knows how L treats his actual successors. Mello and Near, always minimal interest, a few grunts here and there and then nothing.

"The fucking worst." He's lying, she knows it. They both know it. "Where the hell have you been, B?"

Beyond cuts a piece of the croissant, a few flakes dropping on the small plate.

"I had something to take care of." She reminisces over the taste of iron flooding her mouth, chocking on the metallic taste, raising a hand towards the moon and watching as the red turned black in the light.

"You killed someone, didn't you?" She hums, but doesn't contradict him. "Did you get him? Kira?"

She rolls her eyes. All everyone seems to talk about these days is Kira, Kira this and Kira that – the biggest mass murderer that world has ever seen, a God. L, Mello, even the students at To-ho, people in the streets.

Kira certainly has a flare of being overdramatic, but then she can't fault him for it.

"L's play thing is still very much alive." He's the one who suggested they meet at the café after class, not that Beyond would actually go to class. He should show up any minute now.

Silence on the other side of the line and then, a sharp intake of breath.

"Do you…" Disbelief, a question that doesn't need to be asked. "You like him, you actually like him."

Beyond Birthday tilts her head to the side and –

(he's interesting enough to keep her occupied, she'll give him that and he's definitely pretty to look at, especially when he's trying to unravel her secrets and she wants to see what he will do, how many more people will die, how he'll plan this one out)

And then she catches sight of him through the large glass windows, hair golden in the sunlight, shirt tucked in, prim and proper, the glow on his face, youth and innocence and –

"I'll tell L you said 'hi'." She hears the protest, but doesn't pay much attention to it as she presses the off button and drops the phone of the table just as the bell of the shop chimes softly, letting everyone know there is a new customer.

He attracts attention like a magnet – the two girls previously occupied by whatever they were doing stop to gaze at him, even the boy blinks, suddenly awake. Both people at the counter stop their chitchat to offer welcoming smiles that weren't there a few minutes ago – and he likes it.

He spots her easily at the far off corner and smiles at the two employees as he passes them by. He doesn't drops his bag on the chair, no, he carefully places it to hang on the back of it and then takes a seat, calculation in his movements, eyes her croissant which is very much decapitated at this point, bits and pieces scattered all over the plate, the little jam container almost empty.

"Not up to your taste?" He doesn't greet her, doesn't bow his head or offer pleasantries. His veil of humanity wavers in front of her, he allows her to see the monster more and more.

"I've never been one for pastries." Even L probably wouldn't like it, not enough sugar. Maybe if it was filled with chocolate and covered in powdered sugar.

"That makes two of us then." He doesn't like sweets, of course he doesn't. "I'm getting a cup of coffee, would you like anything?"

Beyond blinks at him, her contacts itching her eyes.

'Two serial killers courting each other.' The voice offers, smooth and teasing. 'How cute. Next you'll be leaving each other dead bodies as love letters.'

"Whatever you're having." She ignores the voice. "Please." She adds as an afterthought, watching as his face becomes cool and pleased. He nods and stands up with a smile that is more for show than anything else.

He wants control and Beyond can certainly pretend to give him that if he wants.

He comes back with two cups of coffee still steaming hot, both with milk and one sugar. It's when he sits down that he notices the bag, wrapped up like a gift next to her chair.

"Are you going to a birthday party?" White satin paper oozes out of it. She takes a sip of the coffee and then reaches for it, places it on the table between them.

"It's for you, actually." He offers her curiosity, but doesn't reach for it, not yet.

"Any particular reason?"

"It's something you want."

His movements are deliberately slow as he reaches inside the bag, fingers wrapping around more paper and then he freezes as his eyes trail over the cover of the little black notebook. His face hardens and then relaxes, barely a second, so fast anyone would miss it. Anyone, but not her.

"You're right." She usually is. "It is something I want. Thank you." And then he smiles, actually smiles at her, it makes him even more handsome, genuine and ready to trust her.

(He would taste like gold, warm and rich, and she would savour it for days, save it, bathe in it, she would –)

Beyond tilts her head to the side and then smiles right back at him.

* * *

 _ **a/n : It's a really weird story I'm writing, even I have to admit that. I've changed the genres of this story because I felt like it was more... romantic that I thought and also more horrific. Thank you for reading, let me know what you think of the whole BB/Light escapades and, to clear things off because it's confusing - Beyond paid someone to attack Misa, which means Rem used her notebook to kill said person and then BB killed Misa, gifted Misa's notebook to Light and the other notebook, well, you'll see - and I hope you enjoyed.**_


End file.
